


What Was Left Unsaid

by Tayhlia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2395550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayhlia/pseuds/Tayhlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had never told him how she felt, or how much that one night had meant to her.  Now as the battlelines are drawn between Templar and Mage, Xandria Hawke finds herself opposite the man she loves. (Complete)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plummet into the Abyss

 

_“We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss…”_

 

* * *

 

The sky was becoming gray; the cloudy blue afternoon that had started so serenely had shifted into a layer of haze that made it seem like night. Illuminated by the vibrant orange-red flames of what had once been the Chantry, ash and dust was drifting down, misting like raindrops over Kirkwall. The cries of panic were already sounding throughout the city; screams of terror and pain that normally would have sent a chill down her spine barely penetrated the shock that paralyzed Xandria Hawke.

Time seemed to have slowed; all she could do was stare at the sight, horror twisting in her gut. The mage blinked and then did it again, trying to clear the scene of devastation in front of her, desperate to believe that it was some sort of nightmare, that the Chantry hadn’t just been destroyed.

“There can be no peace.”

She looked at Anders sharply, unable or maybe even unwilling to comprehend what he had done. His amber eyes meet her brown, holding her gaze for a single moment before bowing his head, not in shame or regret but in resignation.

“There is _no_ compromise.”

“NO!” Sebastian’s wail sounded. The Starkhaven archer pushed through the dumbstruck crowd of Templars and Hawke’s friends and fell to his knees, his grief almost tangibly pouring out of him. “Elthina no!”

Whatever color had remained in Xandria’s face faded as she felt physically ill. How many lives had just been taken? The Grand Cleric, the Mothers, the Chantry Sisters, the Chantry devotes; how many others perished with them? Bile rose in her throat. All the innocent citizens praying or seeking help within the walls; the children fostered by the Chantry, all of them were dead.

“Why?” Orsino demanded, the First Enchanter looking at the blonde in a panic. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Anders straightened, his resolve giving him strength. “The Circle has failed us, Orsino.” He repeated. “We allowed ourselves to become trapped in a cycle of abuse of power; our concessions have caused the death and abuse of hundreds of mages. The Circle needed to change, the world needed to change. So I did what I had to.” The Warden declared as though his actions were something to be proud of. “I removed the chance of compromise.”

“The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic.” Meredith’s wiry voice caused a shiver of fear to run through Xandria.

Even before the woman continued, Hawke could see what Anders’ actions had done, the consequences set in motion by a desperate man.

“The Chantry destroyed.”

In his attempt to change the status quo for mages, he had doomed them.

“As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the right of annulment.”

The words came like a physical blow to Xandria; knowing they were coming had made them no easier to hear.

“Every mage in the Circle is to be executed. Immediately!”

Her blood ran cold. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening; she was in a nightmare, a horrific nightmare and she would wake any moment. But even as she prayed that it wasn’t real, she knew it was.

Orsino gasped at the proclamation. “But, but the Circle didn’t even do this!” he sputtered.

A gauntleted finger thrust in her direction, Meredith’s cold blue eyes boring into Hawke with hate and confidence. “And I demand you stand with us, Champion.”

Xandria desperately tried to speak, object, do something other than stand there with the world spinning around her.

“Even you can see that this outrage cannot be tolerated!” Meredith spat.

“Knight-Commander Meredith please!” Orsino was surprisingly respectful in his address. The elven mage moved forward. “The Circle had nothing to do with this! Repeal the order, the mages—”

“Save your words, Orsino.” Meredith interrupted. “The annulment stands.”

Hawke trembled. Almost as though Aveline sensed that she could not speak, the redhead pushed forward. “Knight-Commander, there is no proof that the Circle has done anything. Killing the mages will not bring answers,” She scowled, glancing over her shoulder but not actually turning. “And it certainly will not bring justice.” She said pointedly.

“Why are we debating the right of annulment when the monster who did this, is right here!” Sebastian growled pointing furiously at Anders, who had made no attempt to run, as though the blonde mage had accepted that his actions would cause his death. “I swear to you, I will _kill_ him.”

Instead of arguing or at the very least moving back from the irate archer, Anders simply bowed his head. “It can’t be stopped now.”

Xandria’s mind raced. That was exactly it, she thought. Anders _wanted_ to die.

Anders was staring at her when he spoke, as though she was the only one he wanted to convince. “The Circle is an injustice. The world needs to see,”

Sebastian took a threatening step forward. “Elthina was not part of the Circle. She was a good woman; and you murdered her!”

Hawke was dizzy. All her life, in all her battles she had never had such a feeling of dread come upon her. The man she had protected, called a friend, had just started a war; a war she was right in the middle of.

“You fool!” Orsino exclaimed. “You’ve doomed us all!”

“We were already doomed!” Anders’ voice cracked. “A quick death now or a slow one later. It’s all the same.” He shook his head. “I’d rather die fighting.”

“So you made that choice for everyone?” Aveline almost shouted at him.

Meredith was in front of Xandria, the very proximity causing a thrum of fear to pulse through the mage. “You are the Champion of Kirkwall.” If anything the woman spat the title as though it tasted foul in her mouth. “Do you duty.” Her blue eyes narrowed; a frightening glint in their depths.

Unconsciously, Xandria took a step back, trying to distance herself from the woman she had spent seven years hiding from and another three tactfully trying to placate. It felt as though her entire time in Kirkwall had been leading to this, a choice between mages and normals. There was no way out, no diplomatic solution, Anders had seen to that. She was being forced to choose between genocide or war.

The hate written on Meredith’s face was telling. If the Knight-Commander was so determined to blame the Circle mages for Anders’ action, what would happen after all the mages were gone? What would happen to Merrill, to Anders…to her?

Her hands began to shake. Hawke’s brown eyes darted to her allies, the friends she had known for nearly ten years. Would they stand with her if she chose to defend the mages?

Merrill, stupid naive Merrill had long ago made the decision to follow her wherever she went. No matter her choice, she knew that the Dalish elf would march into battle at Xandria’s side, of that she was certain.

But that was the only certainty she felt.

Should she ask Aveline to openly defy the Knight-Commander after witnessing such a horrendous mass murder?

Could Sebastian set aside his grief and stand with her in defense of mages just as innocent as the people who perished in the Chantry?

Would Varric, who care little for the constant fights between mages and Templars that they always seemed to be in the middle of, stay at her side, no matter what she chose?

A tremble of dread thrummed through her when her gaze settled on Fenris, the white-haired elf who had stolen her heart long ago. Of all her companions, her friends, she was most afraid of his decision. Fenris hated mages, loathed magic. Would he understand? Would he fight alongside her as he had for a decade or would magic finally be the breaking point between them?

“The Circle is not responsible for this.” Hawke felt like someone else was speaking; her voice far stronger than she felt. “I can’t let you kill them for something they didn’t do.”

“You would defend these mages? After all they have done?” Fenris’ voice was like a knife to her, beginning to confirm her worst fears. She looked at him, hiding a flinch at the hate that was practically etched into his face. “After all the evil magic has wrought, you would still support them?”

“Think carefully about this Champion.” Meredith threatened.

Xandria clenched her hands into fists at her side, trying to hide how they were shaking. Heart pounding in her chest she slowly shook her head. Without meaning to her eyes flickered to Fenris, hoping—praying that he would understand. “I won’t help you murder everyone on the delusion that they were responsible for this, Meredith.”

“Thank the Maker,” Orsino whispered in relief.

“No!” Fenris barked causing her to jerk, her stomach dropping with the ever growing feeling of dread taking a painful twist. The elf pushed forward, standing in front of her, fire in his green eyes. “No, I will not defend these _mages_.”

His hand brushed hers as though he had intended to reach out and grasp her but was unable to follow through on the movement. The intensity in how he looked at her caused a shiver to go down her spine.

“Not even for you, Hawke.”

The ache she felt in her heart burned. Xandria swallowed hard and then again, trying to rid herself of the lump that was growing in her throat. “The mages have had no part in this. Do not condemn them for something they haven’t done.”

Fenris scowled. “Mages have betrayed you at every turn. They have plotted, schemed, and killed all from behind the walls.” He leaned in closer to her as though it would emphasize his point. “Blood mages dog this city and you would save them? The plague of magic on this city should be wiped clean. What has magic touched that it hasn’t spoiled?”

Taking a step back, Xandria tried to hide the pain on her face as the words dug deeper into her than any blade ever could. “Meredith won’t stop, Fenris. After she slaughters the Circle here she will turn on the only remaining mage in all of Kirkwall,” Hawke glanced at Meredith who made no attempts to deny her assessment. “Me.”

The elf scoffed at the statement. “You are making mistake, Hawke.” Fenris shook his head taking a step back. “This is one battle I cannot follow you into.”

“I understand.” Her heart was breaking but she did understand. He was going to leave and at the moment there was nothing she could do to stop him save joining Meredith’s revenge. She could never force him or anyone else into a battle they did not wish to fight.

“And one I cannot walk away from.”

It felt as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over her. Xandria almost forgot how to breathe; her knees felt weak as she watched Fenris break away from her group, going to stand by the Templars. Her mind was unwilling to comprehend that the man she loved just joined a woman hell-bent on not only killing every mage in Kirkwall but her as well.

Meredith had the audacity to smirk at her, as though she somehow knew how much Fenris meant to Hawke. Maybe she did. “You’ve done the right thing, Serah.”

“Broody, you can’t be serious!” Varric objected for her.

“Any of the rest of you have the choice.” Meredith addressed to the rest of her friends, daring them to do what Fenris had done. “Join me now, or share their fate.”

Xandria clenched her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palm to avoid looking weak when she saw that Aveline stepped forward. Instead of confirming her fears, the Guard-Captain stood beside the raven-haired mage. “The culling of innocence will not deliver justice, Knight-Commander. So long as that is your decision, my place is with Hawke.”

Varric shook his head and stood on the other side of Xandria. “Woman, I wouldn’t join you if you offered an ogre’s weight in gold.”

Merrill darted forward, half hiding behind Varric and Hawke, her hand brushing Xandria’s arm comfortingly. “We can do this.”

Sebastian didn’t move, his turquoise eyes still glowering at Anders but his inaction gave Meredith the answer she sought.

“Very well.” The Knight-Commander pivoted. “Serah Fenris with me. The rest of you,” she glanced over her shoulder at her Templars as she walked away. “Kill them; I will rouse the rest of the order.”

Fenris hesitated and for one brief moment his eyes flickered to Hawke. Xandria’s heart soared and sank at the same time, shattering the already small pieces even further when she realized that he had slowly begun to turn away.

As though to twist the knife in Xandria’s heart, Meredith continued. “Bring the Champion to me,” her blue eyes narrowed at Xandria, an unnerving smirk was stretched on Meredith’s lips when Fenris took his place beside her. “Alive.”

Horrid thoughts flooded Xandria of what the woman might have planned for her but none of them felt as devastating as watching Fenris walk away with Meredith, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder to the people he had once called his friends.

Suddenly she was tackled to the ground, Anders shoving her out of the way as the first of the Templars attacked. Rolling off of her, the blonde froze the Templar in a solid block of ice, emotions fueling the strength of his spells.

Hawke scrambled to her feet, a blue-violet shield automatically flickering to life around her, blocking the two Templars who thought to attack her with blades. Electricity shot off her fingertips, splitting and striking both of the men simultaneously. They staggered back, stunned just long enough for Xandria to sweep her staff around, the sword-tip slicing through their throats, killing them instantly.

It was a slaughter; six Templars against her group and the First Enchanter. As the last Templar fell, Xandria wondered how the Knight-Commander justified leaving them. The woman had to have known they would be no match for the same group that managed to beat back the Qunari.

“So it’s come to this,” Orsino said quietly. His dull green eyes looked at her. “I don’t know if we can win this war, Champion, but thank you. We would have no chance without you at our side.”

Xandria shifted, a small voice in the back of her mind that sounded entirely too much like her late brother darkly reminded her that they wouldn’t even have been in this situation if she hadn’t spared the life of a mage who had melded with a spirit that had obviously been slowly driving him mad.

“I will leave you to deal with your…friend.” Orsino hesitated at the word. “I must return to the Gallows.” He held her gaze. “Meet me there as soon as you can,” the elf said before hurrying away, desperate to make it back to the Tower before Meredith began to murder everyone within its walls.

Hawke turned her attention toward Anders. He was sitting on the steps leading toward Hightown, his elbows resting on his knees and head in his hands. Because of him, her world had shattered around her; because of him she, an apostate, was about to battle the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall; because of him, she was about to take sides in a war.

She walked toward him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her side, trying to hide how they shook. Anders looked up when she stood near him only to bow his head; it was not shame or grief that was written on his face but resignation.

Abruptly he got to his feet, his back to her. “There is nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself.” Slowly he turned to face her, his shoulders heavy. “I changed myself forever when I took a spirit into my soul.” His amber eyes that, when she had met him had been filled with conviction and a teasing laughter, now were consumed with acceptance and relief. “But this is the justice all mages have awaited.”

The sound of her slap echoed. Anders looked at her in surprise, as though he hadn’t expected her to physically strike him. Breathing heavily they looked at each other, a world tension between them.

“ _Don’t_ call this justice.” She whispered. “Don’t you dare.”

“The world needs to see this, Hawke.” Anders said, almost as though he was trying to convince her. “Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is a solution.” He took a step back, holding his hands out palms up. “And if I pay for that with my life,” Hope flickered in his eyes when he spoke. “Then I pay.”

Hawke shook her head. “I won’t make you a martyr, Anders.” He jerked, startled at her statement. “I won’t make you or that thing inside you a rallying call for every mage in Thedas as though this action was something to be proud of.”

Sebastian stormed forward. “You condone this?” he demanded. “That…that _mage,_ ” Xandria shivered at his tone. “Brutally murdered Elthina, an innocent woman of faith. Someone you knew. Someone who trusted you.” His aqua eyes raked over her as though seeing her for the first time. “And if I had been in the Chantry today, would you be waffling? Would you have dismissed my death as easily as you do hers?”

“It’s not that simple.” Hawke whispered.

“It _is_ that simple.” Sebastian roared, reaching for the dagger on his belt. “That mage, that thing deserves to die for what he has done.”

The Starkhaven noble started forward. Xandria immediately tried to stop him, not because disagreed but because she realized Anders’ death would only cause mages to believe him to be their savior.

“Sebastian, you can’t—” Hawke objected. Roughly he backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the side and out of his path. Her cheek burned and she could feel that his gauntlets had made a small cut on her face.

Blue cracks instantly erupted on Anders’ face, the mage growling at Sebastian. The telltale clink of Varric aiming Bianca caused Sebastian to stall and look back. Merrill held a spell in her palm, ready to cast; Aveline had already begun to move forward, her weapons at the ready; not because they cared what happened to Anders but because Sebastian had physically struck Hawke.

Ignoring the stinging sensation on her cheek, Xandria leveled her gaze at Sebastian. “You will accomplish nothing with his death other than to feed your need for revenge, Sebastian. Elthina wouldn’t want that, she wouldn’t want you to turn into a murderer.”

Rage flared on his face and he took a step toward her. Xandria’s eyes darted to the dagger in his hand, wondering if his hate would make him attack her just to get the satisfaction of seeing Anders dead.

Suddenly he cried out, falling to one knee, his hand grabbing at his thigh. An arrow protruded from it. Sebastian and Hawke looked sharply at Varric who nonchalantly loaded another bolt.

“Make one more move toward her, Choir Boy, and I’ll aim higher with this next one.” Varric threatened.

“You cannot mean to let this abomination live!” Sebastian exclaimed. “He dies!”

Varric shook his head. “I don’t really give a damn about what happens to Blondie.” The dwarf nodded toward Xandria. “I’ve trusted Hawke’s choices for the last ten years, I’m not about to stop now.”

Sebastian looked to Aveline, seeking an ally. “Captain, that man is a murderer. Do not tell me that you can accept that.”

Aveline glanced from Sebastian to Anders and then to Hawke. “Belief and conviction does not justify his actions.” Hope sparked in Sebastian’s eyes. “But I stand with Hawke.” She said firmly. “Either join us or leave.”

The man drew in a sharp breath. Breaking the edge of the arrow off he ripped it from his leg, throwing it to the ground. Sebastian tied a cloth over the bleeding wound and then straightened. He glared at all of them, the most hate filling his face when it settled on Hawke and Anders.

“I will return to Starkhaven,” he sneered. “And I will bring such an army with me upon my return that there’d be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule.” He leaned toward Xandria, oblivious to her recoil, hate marring his face. “Do not doubt this Hawke, I will come back and find you and your precious Anders. I will teach you both what true justice is.” Sebastian stormed away.

Varric glanced at her. “He’s going to be trouble if does that, Hawke.”

Xandria swallowed hard, understanding what he was implying. For a moment, to her shame, she considered it; considered killing Sebastian just to insure he could not do what he threatened.

Slowly she shook her head. Despite it all, he had still been her friend. It would take him months to rally that sort of support from Starkhaven, if the country even did accept him back. No, she had other things to worry about than the hot-headed archer.

Anders looked at her, confusion written across his features. “You…you’re going to let me live?”

“You dead or gone will do nobody any good at this moment.” Hawke said shaking her head. “We need your heals and experience if any of us are going to make it out of this damned city alive tonight.”

 


	2. You Fight

Trigger Warning: Nondescript suggestion of rape

 

* * *

 

_“Hurtled into chaos you fight…”_

 

* * *

The docks of the Gallows were littered with bodies, fallen Templars, mages, it didn’t matter anymore; they all were dead, their blood tracing a river in the cobblestone. Hawke moved forward, reaching for her staff as she saw three Templars charge up the steps, heading toward the First Enchanter and the few mages who had still yet to make it inside.

Orsino funneled fire at one of the Templars before sweeping his twisted dragon-head staff at another, sending the man flying back with a force-blow. Xandria threw her hand out, shooting arcs of purple-white lightning at the Templar who attempted to attack the elf from behind.

The First Enchanter jerked, startled as the Templar fell dead beside him. He looked down the stairs and hope sparked in his eyes. “Champion! Thank the Maker you made it!” He started down the stairs toward her. “We must—”

“And here you are!” Meredith’s voice caused them to turn sharply.

The Knight-Commander was storming through the gates, an army of Templars marching behind her. Xandria swallowed hard when she saw who was immediately at Meredith’s flank, the shock-white hair impossible to miss. Fenris’ eyes narrowed at the cut on her cheek as though for one brief moment he had forgotten whose side he had chosen and wanted nothing more than to slaughter anyone who dared harm her.

“Let us speak, Meredith!” Orsino shouted coming up beside Hawke.

Meredith practically sauntered forward, almost cocky. “I will entertain a surrender, _nothing_ more.” The two leaders stood across from each other, Hawke uncomfortably in the middle. “Speak if you have something to say.”

Orsino bowed his head, holding his hands out palm up in submission. “Revoke the right of annulment, Meredith. Before this goes too far,” the undertone of begging colored his voice. “Imprison us if you must,” Anders jerked, startled at the statement. “Search the Tower, I’ll even help you. But do not kill us all for an act we did not commit!”

“The Grand Cleric is dead, killed by a mage.” Meredith said, her blue eyes shifting over to Anders and then Xandria. “The people will demand justice.”

“Then give it to them.” Aveline moved forward. “This is not justice, Knight-Commander, this is vengeance.” Hawke didn’t miss how Anders flinched. “Put the mage responsible for this to public trial; execute him for the crime, not the Circle Mages who had no part of this man’s treachery.”

Meredith glared at the redhead. “The time for talk has passed. The offer is commendable,” Whether she was referring to Aveline’s or Orsino’s, Hawke didn’t know but she recognized the look in the woman’s blue eyes. “But it comes too late.”

“We can still prevent this.” Xandria tried, looking from Meredith to Orsino and then back. “Before you tear Kirkwall apart,”

“You heard her,” Orsino said heavily. “She’s wanted this all along. In her mind we’re all blood mages.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Hawke unintentionally glanced toward Fenris but the elf refused to look at her. “We don’t have to be on opposite sides.”

“I take no pleasure in this, Champion.” Meredith’s words contradicted the triumphant glint in her blue eyes. “Mages have been allowed to run amok in this city and it has cost the lives of the entire Chantry. No more.”

“You realize this is a cause you cannot hope to win.” Fenris spoke up, causing the knot in her stomach to twist painfully.

“Is that what you want?” Anders took a step forward before she could speak. “To win? Is that all you ever care about?”

“ _You_ could never understand what I want.” spat Fenris, his tattoos flickering to life.

Anders scoffed. “Death to mages, blah, blah, blah.” The blonde mocked. “Did you never notice that the woman you followed was a mage?”

Xandria flinched when the attention swung to her.

“I noticed.” Fenris said tersely.

“And that doesn’t matter to you?” Varric was surprisingly the one who spoke. “Nug shit, Broody. Can you really go against us in battle? Against Hawke?”

Fenris frowned. “I do not wish to.”

“Enough.” Hawke’s voice was soft but firm. Almost on instinct her group fell silent. Raising her eyes, she meet the gaze of the man she loved, unable to stop her hands from trembling. “I cannot leave the mages to be murdered for a crime they did not commit. Not when all they’ve struggled for is the freedom to live.”

“I thought freedom from slavery meant something to you.” Anders spat.

Xandria looked at him sharply; knowing having him speak again would only drive the wedge further between her and Fenris. Anders didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. He started to move forward again when she stopped him. He glared at her, hints of Justice—or was it Vengeance—burning blue around his eyes. Words of spite died on his lips when he saw the pain on her face

Turning back to Fenris, she swallowed hard, desperately trying to push her emotions back. “Please,” she whispered, watching as the furrow of hate on his forehead broke to surprise. “Don’t do this,” Her eyes flickered to the Templars and Meredith, who watched her group bicker as though it were so sort of sick performance. “You don’t have to join us, just go.”

Fenris seemed stunned at her words.

“Leave this battle, leave Kirkwall behind. Please,” she begged, tears shining in her eyes, mind screaming ‘ _Don’t make me fight you!_ ’ again and again, hoping that he could somehow hear her cries.

“I cannot.” Fenris said, his green eyes burning a hole into her. “I must oppose what these mages hope to become.” He shook his head. “I have no wish to face you on the battlefield, Hawke. But I will do what must be done,”

Closing her eyes, Xandria felt something in her shatter. Forcing any tears that threatened to spill away, she nodded. “Very well.”

Pivoting, she started up the steps to the gallows, her allies, what few remained, following closely at her heels. Orsino brought up the rear, shouting one last jib to Meredith before closing the door.

“Quickly now,” he rushed forward. “We have no idea how long she will give us.”

Hawke shifted into the tactician mindset, willingly abandoning emotion in favor of strategy. “We need to get as many mages out of the city as we can.” She said walking in tandem with the First Enchanter.

“How? The only way in or out of the Gallows is the courtyard.”

Anders snorted. “Hardly.”

Xandria shot the mage she had spared a look but nodded. “He is right. The Templars have a passage leading under the city into Darktown.”

Understanding dawned on Orsino. “Lyrium smugglers?” he questioned. “I heard rumors but never found such a thing.”

He grabbed a running mage by the arm, stalling the frightened boy’s steps and whispered instructions to him. The mage nodded and backtracked to a room, opening the door and calling inside. The boy proceeded to herd the hiding mages from the rooms along the corridor toward the great hall.

“It would hardly be useful if the First Enchanter actually knew how his students were escaping.” Anders muttered, ignoring the glare Orsino shot him, the elf’s hatred over the mess the Grey Warden had caused clear.

“How many skilled mages do you have?” Aveline asked as they reached the great hall, scanning the huddled masses of students.

“A dozen,” Orsino said dimly. “Maybe less.” He pointed out the few in the crowd wearing light blue robes with elegant golden stitching. “They are the best and have already gone through their Harrowing. I only know of three others who have some talent in aggressive spells. Meredith did not approve of many of the branches of magic.”

Hawke did a quick head count. “Anders find out how many of the mages want to stay and help fight and how many want to escape. Put those who want to escape in groups of ten and be ready to assign at least two of the skilled mages to each group as escorts.” Her mind raced as she studied the layout of the great hall. “Merrill,”

“Lethallan?”

“How are you at climbing and hitting from above?” Xandria pointed toward the large wooden beams running over top the hall. “It’ll be dangerous but unexpected.”

The elf looked up and then smiled. “I can do it, Hawke.”

Giving her a curt nod, Hawke looked to the other two of her group, wondering how her world had come to this. “Aveline, as soon as the groups are ready, I want you escorting them to the entrance of the tunnel. We know the Templars have knowledge of the passageway.”

An alarmed look crossed Aveline face. “Hawke,” she objected taking a step closer and lowering her voice. “The main charge will come through here.” She pointed out.

Giving the redhead a tight smile, Xandria nodded. “I know.” She was all too aware that they only had one fighter amongst them. “First priority is to save as many innocents as possible, Aveline.”

“Hawke.” Aveline’s voice wavered. “Xia,”

The nickname caused Xandria to flinch, her heart twisting in her chest. It had been years since anyone had called her by her given name let alone the nickname invented by her younger brother. Fenris had been the last person to call her it, whispered in the throes of passion that one night they had shared so long ago. For a split second, she wanted nothing more than to hear her white-haired warrior say it again.

“You’ll be slaughtered.” Aveline continued, oblivious to the emotional turmoil she had caused in the raven-haired mage.

Forcing a grin Xandria winked. “We’ll be fine, Captain. We always are.”

Aveline sighed shaking her head. “How do you talk me into these things?”

Xandria shrugged, she barely knew how she managed to get into situations like this, let alone talk people into following her.

“Well, a good cause triumphs good sense.” The redhead almost marched toward the mages Anders was talking to, ready to do her part.

“Orsino,” Hawke turned to the First Enchanter who had been silently watching the exchange. “Your students are frightened. They know me only by reputation but you by face. Talk with them, this is not the end. Make them believe it.”

The elf hesitated, obviously wanting to say something but then thought better of it. He accepted the order and followed Aveline, ready to sooth the hushed whispers and soft crying of his students.

“Shit Hawke, the things you get into.” Varric muttered from beside her. “Nervous?”

Xandria glanced at the dwarf and faked a grin. “I’ve taken down the Arishok, what’s a bunch of Templars?”

Varric frowned, eying how her hands hadn’t stopped shaking despite her brave front. “Hawke,” he lowered his voice. “Hawke I feel like I should say something.”

Walking toward the entryway, she eyed the narrow hallway that lead to the larger room. “No goodbyes, dwarf.” She grunted, clawing her hand and wrenching a few of the large path stones up to create a makeshift barricade. “This isn’t the end.” Kneeling down she brushed the ground directly in front of the closed door with her fingertips, willing a paralyzing trap into existence.

“Hawke, this isn’t just any battle.” Her friend stated. “Hawke, this is me.” She spared a glance over her shoulder before spreading grease a few feet in. “I know about you and Broody, how you feel about him.” Hawke flinched, trying to ignore the stabbing pain that shot through her chest. “What are you going to do?”

Setting up an explosive flagon with a trip wire, she bit her lip. “When the Templars make it to this point,” she moved further down the hall and spread a series of repulsion traps along the last of the bottleneck. “Fire a volley as quickly as you can,” Xandria straightened. “They won’t be stalled long and we need as many of them down as possible.”

“Hawke.” Varric insisted.

“Please,” she finally looked the dwarf in the eye, unable to conceal the pain she felt. “Don’t ask me, Varric. I can’t…” her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to hold back the tears.

“Serah?” a voice interrupted them. Hawke’s eyes flew open, her emotion quickly shoved behind a mask of confidence and courage. An elven mage stood, nervously glancing at the hall and then back at her. “They are going to take the first group through the tunnels.”

Nodding, Xandria offered the girl a smile. “Thank you. Could you ask everyone who wants to remain and fight to gather in the center of the room?” Watching the girl scurry away, she turned to Varric. “Take your position out of the way.” The dwarf hesitated and then obeyed, heading to the best vantage point he could find, atop some boxes. “Varric,” she called causing him to halt. “Be careful.”

“You too, Hawke.” Varric said with a smile.

Taking a deep breath, Xandria started toward Orsino. She could do this, she reasoned; if she just kept putting one foot in front of the other she could get through this like she had gotten through everything else the Maker had thrown at her.

Traitorously Fenris’ face flashed through her mind and her step faltered. No matter how much she wished to avoid Varric’s question, she knew it was valid.

What would she do if—when she and Fenris met on the battlefield?

Her stomach lurched queasily. The image of her white-haired elf dead on the ground nearly made her ill. It wasn’t right; being on opposite sides. Fenris should be there with them figuring out a way to survive the impossible odds the way they always did; not waiting with Templars to fight them.

Part of her wondered if he would have made the same choices had he known how she felt about him. If only she hadn’t waited so long, if only she had just told him how she felt, told him that she would wait for him forever if she had to; maybe Fenris would be there beside her. It was foolish and overly romantic but Xandria couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Hawke.” Anders practically materialized in front of her. The blond mage glanced around nervously and then motioned them to the side. “Hawke,” he started again. His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. “I should have trusted you.”

“I would have stopped you.”

He smiled wryly at her. “I never expected you to spare my life.” Anders stepped closer to her. “I never thought…if we survive this, we will be hunted.”

Xandria felt numb as he brushed a strand of black hair off her face, as though somehow her sparing him was a hidden declaration of her feelings for him.

“If you join me, I’d rather be on the run with you than anyone else.” Taking her inaction as permission he leaned forward, intent on kissing her.

Before he could even get halfway across the small space between them, Xandria moved, grabbing his hand by the wrist and twisting it away from her before she took a step back. Anders looked at her, startled, seemingly unable to fathom why she was denying him.

“ _Nothing_ has changed between us, Anders.” Hawke ground out firmly. She released his wrist and took another step away. “I didn’t spare you because of your delusion that I care for you romantically. I spared you because your choice, your decision to start war is going to cost lives and I want you to see what you’ve done. To watch as the mages you claim to want to save, die because of you.”

“Why can’t you see it?” his whispered plea could have been heartbreaking. “You’re a mage, Hawke. You more than anyone should understand what I’m trying to do; how I’m trying to free us.”

Ire burned in her. “What you’re trying to—” she cut herself off before she began to curse. Motioning to the scattered people in the room, Xandria let her temper show. “Look around Anders, these people aren’t us. You’re a Warden and whatever else you may have been before them, I know the only reason you lasted as long as you have is because of that status. I have lived my whole life learning to survive. These people are children.”

Anders bristled. “I escaped the Tower and—”

“Seven times.” She spat. “You ran and were captured again and again. Tell me, how did you happen to join the Wardens, Anders? How did you manage to elude capture by the Templars that time and not all the others?” His cheeks flushed. “Don’t stand there and tell me you were ready for a war your first day out of the Tower.”

“Something needed to be done.”

Xandria raked her hand through her long black locks, huffing in frustration. “What you’ve done is commit mass murder in the mistaken belief that it will do something more than just paint a target on every mage in Thedas. What you’ve done is pit untrained mages against a Templar army.” Unintentionally her voice dropped, her heart aching in her chest. “What you’ve done is forced us all to choose sides in a war.”

Anders brow furrowed as she turned away from him. “The elf made his choice, Hawke.” He spat, disregarding everything else she had said and focusing on the one thing he knew would hurt her. “When are you going to stop defending him? He’d crush your heart if you gave him the chance.”

Unintentionally she flinched, her mind immediately flashing to how shattered she had felt after Fenris left her bed. No one but Varric had ever known the full story of what happened that night between her and Fenris but everyone suspected.

Something sparked in Anders’ amber eyes. “You love him.” He said the words as though they were the vilest thing he had ever heard. “That’s why—” he cut himself off, clearly making connections where there were none. Suddenly he took a step toward her. “He never deserved you, Hawke. He never deserved your protection and he certainly doesn’t give a damn about your feelings for him.” Xandria clenched her hands into fists, trying to control her emotions as Anders continued. “Fenris has betrayed you. His hate for mages will be your undoing.”

“Fenris,” she met the mage’s gaze with blazing eyes. “Beneath his hate, is a good man, Anders.” Xandria looked him up and down. “I’m only sorry the same can’t be said of you.”

Anders took a step back as though she had struck him.

“I want you in the back when the battle starts. Focus on healing, not fighting.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she walked away, not certain if she was fleeing from Anders or the emotions he had stirred up.

Heading toward Orsino, Xandria flexed and unflexed her hand, desperately trying to regain control and stop her shaking. She couldn’t go to pieces now; she couldn’t think about what might happen if she met Fenris on the battlefield today; she couldn’t afford to break. There were too many lives depending on her.

The First Enchanter was watching as Aveline led a group away, a grim bitter look on his face. “Are you prepared, Champion?” he asked turning to her. “I don’t believe Meredith will wait long before attacking.”

Eying him, Hawke nodded. “You don’t believe we will win this fight?” she asked softly so none of the mages who chose to stay behind would hear.

Orsino sighed. “With you at our side, perhaps.” He looked her. “But what then, Champion? Even if we win, we’ll be apostates; more Templars will come with even larger armies.”

“We’ll be hunted wherever we go, with little sympathy from the rest of the world.” Hawke surprised him by finishing his depressing rant. “Get over it.” He blinked. “Your only choice at the moment is to fight or lie down and die. No one knows what the future will hold or even if there will be a future, but I for one will be damned if I let a bunch of Templars tell me I don’t have the right to live.”

A faint smile spread on his lips. “How do you do it, Champion? How can you look at the danger we face and scoff at it?”

“Practice?” Xandria said idly, grateful that he hadn’t picked up the nerves turning madly in her gut.

“Templars are coming!” Merrill’s soft voice rang from the rafters.

Hawke turned to face the door. “Be ready for them!” she shouted walking to the front of the line, hiding her fear beneath a mask of determination. They had no fighter, one rogue, and a handful of mages against Templars. She tightened her grip on her staff.

This was going to be bad.

The charge of Templars was instantly frozen, caught by her line of paralytic traps. Xandria cast the first spell, a ball of ice exploding at the immobile men’s feet, impaling them with sharp shards. More Templars appeared, a few trigging the last of the magical traps but three pushing through.

Swallowing hard, she watched them set off the second trap. The grease she had spread on the floor caught flame. Cries of pain riddled the air. Xandria tuned them out, blasting an arcing bolt of electricity down her staff. It impacted the gleaming silver breastplate of a Templar, instantly killing him. The Templars began to push forward, leaping past the grease fire.

The third trap sent the few that made it through flying backward, skidding on the floor, gathering the grease fire and coating them with liquid flames. A horrid smell of charred flesh began to permeate the air. Behind her, Hawke could hear a few of the apprentices vomiting, unable to hold their stomach against the stench.

Hollowly she remembered when she had still had that reaction, back in Fereldan when she first killed someone at fifteen. The Templar had died quickly but she still remembered her father comforting her as she was ill. Now the stink barely fazed her.

As the next group of Templars tripped and stumbled their way through, she abstractly wondered what type of person she had become when the death and destruction she caused didn’t even make her to blink. Shaking her head, Xandria focused back on survival, watching as the new Templars reached the line of repulsion, where only three of the traps remained.

“NOW VARRIC!”

From the side the dwarf fired a volley of arrows. The small weapons killed three before the Templars realized what was happening. As they went to shield themselves, Hawke twisted her staff forward, funneling a burst of frost down its length followed immediately by a bolt of purple-white lightning.

More Templars were pushing through, managing to break past the bottleneck. Xandria would never forget the cry of the first apprentice that was killed. A girl had valiantly tried to fight, fire burning at her fingers. The Templar struck her across the face, stepping on her back and swinging his blade down before Hawke could cast a spell.

Two strong spells, one fire and the other a hunk of stone, smashed into the Templar, killing him instantly. Glancing at Orsino, the elf nodded in her direction, turning back to the fight.

Xandria quickly ducked the swinging blade. Sweeping her staff out, she knocked the Templar off his feet. Without remorse she stabbed the tip of her staff into his neck, blood spurting. Yanking the staff out, she immediately used it to launch a ball of white-hot flames at two Templars who had cornered a mage.

“Another group is coming Hawke!” Merrill’s voice could barely be heard above the sounds of battle.

She looked toward the hall and then at the others fighting. They needed a way to stall the new wave and didn’t have time to reset any traps. Cursing, Xandria closed her eyes, erecting a shield around her.

Electricity began to spark in the air. Her eyes flew open, a purple-white aura glowing from the brown orbs. Clawing a hand up, she pushed the magic out of her. The twisting vortex of lightning burst into life in the hallway, causing Xandria to pant with the exertion. She hadn’t cast that spell in years, not since the battle with the Qunari; that large of spell was difficult to control.

Templars caught in the field of electrified ground and air cried out, falling to the ground only to be hit again. Suddenly the air changed temperature, plummeting so quickly that she could see her breath in front of her. Hawke’s eyes widened when saw the air swirl, frost and snow appearing over the hall.

“GET BACK!” she shouted, suddenly connecting what was starting to happen, what an unsuspecting mage had cast. Diving out of the way, a lightning bolt smashed into where she had been standing, cracking the stone and smoldering. “EVERYONE BACK!”

Grabbing one of the injured mages, she stumbled, half dragging the apprentice back. Anders met her halfway, eyes watching as the magic churned. He helped her pull the wounded mage away, neither of them able to stop watching the storm.

“I’ve never seen one cast before,” Anders whispered in shock.

Xandria swallowed hard, hearing the cries as the unsuspecting Templars ran straight into the storm of death. Her father had called it ‘a Storm of the Century’, a wicked combination of massively difficult spells that clashed and made each other stronger; Blizzard and Tempest, water and electricity working together to fry anyone who dared cross their path.

As the storm died down, Hawke felt ill. The barricade she had made of stone now joined with one of the frozen dead bodies of the Templars. There had to be at least twenty of them laying there and more further into the great hall.

Sensing there was a lull in the battle, she motioned to Anders to start healing the mages that still lived. Of the twenty-five that opted to remain, ten had fallen, three were bleeding to death from a missing appendage, and the others huddled to the side, fearful whispers echoing among them.

“Look at it all,” Orsino said causing her to turn to face him. “Why don’t they just drown us as infants? Why wait?” he spat bitterly. “Why give us the illusion of hope?” He looked sharply at her. “I won’t wait for her to kill me.”

“Don’t.” the order came out as more of a plea. “Don’t become what they assume, don’t give in.” Xandria said recognizing the look in the elf’s eyes.

“It’s too late.” Orsino murmured, staring at how few of them remained. “If they are to slaughter us all, punish us for a crime we haven’t committed—”

Grabbing his arm causing him to look at her, Hawke shook her head. “It is _never_ too late.” She ground firmly. Looking out at the frightened faces, she swallowed hard. “We aren’t fighting their oppression, their assumptions of what we are. We are fighting for our lives, for our right to live.” Her voice grew in strength as she spoke. “Don’t take an action that will only prove their cause!”

Unintentionally her eyes flickered to Anders. The possessed mage stiffened, meeting her gaze before returning to healing the fallen acolyte, shame dancing across his features. Moving forward, Hawke stood in the center of the hall, the dead bodies from the first wave littering the floor.

“We will rise from the ashes and prove to them, prove to the world that we’re better than they assume us to be.” Xandria declared, gripping her staff tightly. “Show them that not every mage will make a deal with demons to further their own wants!”

An arrow shot out from what seemed like nowhere, headed for her but the glint from the metal tip alerted Xandria as it flew through the air. Instinct alone reacted before she could even think, throwing herself to the side to avoid it. She swallowed a few curse words when she saw it imbed itself into the apprentice that Anders was healing, stealing the life the man had worked so hard to save.

“Varric! Merrill!” Hawke shouted. “Take down the archer! Ready for another wave!” was all she could say before another group of Templars charged through the doorway.

Fire burned from her fingertips, halting the progression for a moment. Suddenly a burst of energy flew forward causing her to fall to one knee gasping. The Silence painfully blocked her ability to use magic.

Looking up she squinted at the Templar now standing triumphantly over her. He readied his blade, smirking at the thought he bested the Champion. In a flash Xandria moved. Lunging forward she yanked the dagger from his belt and twisted to her feet, spinning around, her waist-length black hair fanning in a circle around her, and dragging the blade across the man’s throat before he could react.

Her mana slowly started to return as the Templar fell dead at her feet. Dropping the dagger she lashed out with her staff, burying the sword tip to the hilt on one Templar before smashing the head of her staff into the face of another.

Xandria learned long ago not to be defenseless without magic. She be damned if she forgot that lesson now.

A glint of steel caught her eye and she threw herself to the side, the sword swung grazing her on the arm. Blood poured from the shallow wound. The Templar lunged at her again, obviously trying to take advantage of the fact she lacked to magic to defend herself. She parried with her staff, feeling the power behind the blow vibrate up her arm.

“The Knight-Commander sends her regards.” The Templar sneered, pushing against her staff, forcing her to move back. “She tells me she has great plans for your elf.”

Xandria slipped, stumbling away, confusion at his statement filling her. “Go screw yourself.” She snapped ineloquently swinging her staff around to hit him.

The Templar caught it with his hand, laughing when she tried to yank it from his grip. With a strength Hawke hadn’t realized he had, the man shoved her backwards, funneling the force down her staff. The air was knocked out of her when she hit the wall, losing her hold on her weapon, the Templar instantly tossing it aside.

Xandria started to move when he grabbed her, pushing her back against the wall. The Templar wrapped a gauntleted hand around her throat. A wave of panic hit her as she realized she couldn’t break free.

“Once the Knight-Commander has this pathetic attempt at rebellion squashed, she is going to kill you nice and slow, mage.” He said with a sickening grin.

“That assumes she’s going to win.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at her, his gauntleted fingers digging into the soft skin of her throat for a moment. “She’ll win.” Came his less than witty response. “And she’ll make you watch as she kills your friends one by one.”

Hawke tried to peal his fingers off of her, the Silence still suppressing her magic.

“She’ll start with the redheaded bitch.”

The Templar seemed to have some sort of repulsive pleasure in his ideas of what Meredith would do to her and her friends if they lost. Xandria ignored him. Any moron would know that if they failed, Meredith wouldn’t have a chance to sink her claws into them; everyone would be dead.

“Then move onto the little Dalish tart.”

Out of the corner of her eye Hawke spotted a weapon a few feet from them.

“The plans for that dwarf have been long coming…”

She tried to reach for what little mana might have returned but was left with a painful head rush, informing her that she didn’t even have enough magic yet to even make a spark let alone a mind blast.

“That glowing elf will be last.” His words caused Xandria to suddenly still in her struggles, looking at the man in alarm. “Did you think she’d let even one of your companions live?” he mocked. “Pity though,” His smirk reminded her far too much of the one Danarius had when he came sauntering down those stairs, believing that she would simply hand Fenris back to him without a thought. “That white-haired elf of yours, I’d love to get my hands on him.” He cackled like it was some fine joke. “I bet he’d put up a lovely fight.”

“He’d kill you before you even finished the thought.” Hawke retorted, spitting in the Templar’s face.

The man scowled, his grip on her throat tightening for a brief second. “I’m going to make him scream, mage. And I’ll make you watch.”

Kicking out she landed a blow between his legs, wincing at the metal clang of his armor. He laughed glancing down, a snide comment on his lips; that was all the distraction she needed. Slamming her head forward she caught him in the nose, forcing him to drop her. Hawke scooped up a blade from the floor.

“A mage with a sword?” the man scoffed, ignoring the blood streaming down his face.

Smirking at him, Xandria swung low; exactly as she expected he moved to parry. Just as her father taught her, she changed the direction of the blade, slashing the Templar across the collarbone, sending him crashing to the ground. She stalked into his view, glaring down at him, allowing her fury to show.

Kneeling over the dying man she leaned down. “Meredith should know better than to threaten my friends.”

Pressing her hand on top of the metal breastplate she summoned what little mana she had access to and watched with sick satisfaction as the Templar screamed, bursts of electricity zapping his body. After a moment she stopped, watching the tears leaking out of the Templar’s eyes. He looked at her, panting for air.

“And you should have known,” Her brown eyes sparked dangerously. “ _Never_ threaten the man I love.” Xandria stood and impaled the man in the throat, twisted the sword to the side, watching him gurgle and choke on his own blood.

Looking to the battle, Hawke tried to force her emotions back. She fumbled at her medical pouch as she watched another mage fall. The lyrium potion was sour on her lips and sent tingles down her limbs.

Magic growing anew, she started to charge back into the battle when Orsino caught her eye. He had stopped in the middle of the fight, watching, hearing the cries as the mages under his protection fell to the Templars.

A seed of dread twisted in her gut and expanded when he reached for the dagger on his belt. “No.” she whispered, trying to push her way through the battle. “ORSINO, STOP!” she screamed, ducking under a blade, desperate to get through the fighting. “DON’T!”

He met her gaze, hesitating. Shaking her head, Xandria pleaded, praying to the Maker that the elf would not make that mistake. Deliberately Orsino dragged the dagger down his hand, red blood bursting from the wound.

The change in the room was palpable. Magic tingled in the air causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise. The thrum of enticement pulsed with blood magic around the battle, which had slowed to a stop; watching in horror as the First Enchanter grew into an abomination, the like none could have imagined.

Bodies of the dead flew up around him, padding the creature as it grew in height. The blood dripping and soaking the area fueled the magic, adding a dangerous hum around the screaming beast.

“Maker save us!” a mage gasped falling backwards in a desperate attempt to scramble away from the creature.

Xandria let out a string of expletives that would have made a sailor blush. “BACK! EVERYBODY BACK!” she screamed seconds before the abomination that Orsino had become took a swipe at the battlefield.

“Maker’s breath, what have you gotten us into Hawke!” Varric’s voice called somewhere to her right.

The monster ripped a Templar in half, letting out a shriek.

“Merrill!” Xandria scanned the rafters for the elf. In a shadowed corner she saw Merrill peer down. “Can you try to root it in place?”

Even at the distance she could see the fear in the elf’s eyes. “I’ll try, Hawke.” Her soft voice was barely heard over the screams as the brute attacked again, making no distinction between mage and Templar this time.

“Is there no end to the madness you find?” the familiar sound of Aveline’s humor was a comfort.

Turning she looked at the redhead, relief that the woman had returned mixing with a grimace when she saw the wound that was across Aveline’s head that still was trickling blood. “Just lucky I guess.” Xandria said. “I’ll take the flank.” She volunteered, trying to map out some sort of strategy.

Aveline gave a curt nod, immediately moving forward, shouting one of her favorite rallying cries in order to capture the creature’s attention. Circling to the back, Hawke swept a funnel of fire at the beast, likening the scream it uttered to the sound of a boar. Thick vines the size of tree roots burst from the stone, shooting up and wrapping around the monster, dragging it to the ground.

It screamed, the sound causing the hair on her arm to stand on end. With one of its many hands the beast grabbed at the thorny roots, breaking free with one simply tug.

Fire, ice, lightning, every spell became a never-ending swirl of magic. The damned beast just wouldn’t die. It began to conjure wraiths and shrieks and then rose the fucking dead. Corpses of the fallen Templars and mages reanimated, charging at the few who were left. From above, Hawke could hear Merrill cursing in elven as the monster broke free from her thorny vine trap again.

Drinking her third mana potion, Xandria tossed the vial aside. She was surrounded by three of the walking dead. Sweeping her staff, ice spikes burst up as a barricade. A searing pain hit her in the shoulder and she stumbled back; a throwing dagger was embedded to the hilt.

Flexing her hand, she threw her other arm out, the fire sizzling and crackling as it engulfed the walking dead, channeling the pain and anger into the spell. As the bodies fell, finally still once more, Xandria looked at her shoulder.

With a wince, she wrenched the dagger out, gasping as the blood began to spill freely from the wound. Haphazardly healing it, she looked at the thing that used to be Orsino. The only way to kill a snake is to cut off its head, she reasoned.

Running forward, Hawke wondered at what point she had lost her mind. Jumping, she used a force blast to push her further, landing on the creature’s chest, barely grabbing hold of it. Digging the dagger into the thing’s head, Xandria stabbed it again and again, ignoring the blood squirting up at her and making her hands slick.

“Why won’t you die!” she screamed taking hold of one of the many limbs that were waving about the brute’s face and yanking, hoping to dislodge something of the former First Enchanter that could be killed.

The thing gave way, a squealing disgusting lump of flesh with a face and arms flew out past her. Suddenly without a force holding it together, the mass of bodies that the abomination had made an armor of collapsed.

Hawke tumbled to the floor, crying out when her right knee connected with the unforgiving ground. Using her momentum to summersault forward, she swept her staff out, the metal sparking on the stone. The creature that Orsino had become screeched at her, a spike of ice shot through its midsection.

Using her staff as a support, she got to her feet, barely able to put weight on her right leg. Closing her eyes, Xandria wrenched the last bit of mana she had. A low buzz grew around. Her brown eyes flew open, glowing. Thrusting her hand forward she funneled a blast of cold and lightning, electrified ice shards hitting the creature, bombarding it.

The fiend let out another unearthly scream. Xandria’s eyes narrowed and she shot a thick shard of ice at it. The spear-like chunk of ice flew into the monster’s mouth, slicing through its throat and appearing halfway out the other side. The sound immediately ceased the abomination collapsing, finally dead.

She stood there; almost stunned that it was over. Taking a deep breath, she limped to the side and collapsed onto a box, the throbbing ache in her leg becoming too much for her to handle.

Scanning the room for survivors Xandria was forced to swallow the bile that threatened to rise in her throat; blood and death was everywhere, lying heavy on the air. She could feel it on her face, in her hair, looking out at the hall there was little difference between Templar and mage.

They were all victims and they were all dead.

Anders dropped to his knees beside her, his hands automatically wrapping around her injured leg, the blue glow of healing magic humming from him.

“Is this what you pictured?” Hawke asked softly, wincing as the magic righted a fracture in her knee. “Congratulations, Vengeance. This is your victory.” Two amber eyes looked up at her, defensively filled with guilt. “You’ve freed the mages from the Templar oppression.”

“Hawke,” he started but one look from her caused him to fall silent again.

Xandria shook her head. “All you’ve done is sign a death warrant for any mage in Thedas. There is no liberation,” Each word acted like she had physically struck him. “No army rising up. Just death.” She whispered. “Welcome to a world with no compromise.”

“Maker’s breath, Hawke,” Varric gaped at her. “What were you thinking? That thing was big enough to eat you whole!”

Shrugging, Xandria fished out a mana potion. “Oh god, oh god, we’re all gonna die?” she muttered under her breath before drinking the blue liquid in one sip.

Seeking Aveline out in the mess, she grimaced at the angle the warrior’s shield arm was bent. Motioning Anders to the Guard-Captain, Hawke debated about taking another mana potion, her reserves still felt raw and empty.

“Status?” Xandria asked when the green eyes focused on her.

“Two groups of mages escaped through the underground before they attacked.” She reported, barely even wincing when Anders mended the bone. “We were attacked from behind, Hawke.” Aveline said solemnly. “Templars flooded the passage.”

Biting back a few choice curse words, Xandria got to her feet, wincing as some remnants of throbbing shot through her leg. “And the rest? How many did the Templars get?”

Aveline bowed her head. “All of them.” Closing her eyes, Xandria violently kicked the box she had just been sitting on, ignoring Anders protests of him just healing the limb. “They blew in the tunnel, Hawke. It collapsed on one of the groups, the rest…these were students. They could barely cast a shield,”

“Damn it!” she cursed.

A tisking sound came from behind her. “That look is much too harsh to mar your lovely face,” the thick Antivan accent washed out.

Her eyes flew open and she looked sharply over her shoulder. “Zevran?”

The elven assassin did a mock bow. “At your service,” He wagged his eyebrows, clearly suggesting much more than help in battle. “A friend,” Zevran seemed to use the term loosely. “Insisted we stop by the city before traveling on, seems we were wise to do so,”

“Friend?” Xandria suddenly noticed there was another addition to her group of survivors. “Nathaniel Howe,” she said stunned.

“Or Natty as the Grey Wardens affectionately called him,” Zevran teased. Nathaniel took a swipe at the elf, who simply dodged it. “We saw the wonderful pyrotechnics and thought, who do we know in Kirkwall capable of such a wicked display of awesomeness? Only one name came to mind and here we are.”

Smiling gratefully at them, she looked hesitantly at the archer. “You’re a Grey Warden, Nathaniel. I thought the Wardens didn’t mix with politics.”

“I’d hardly call the genocide of mages in this city politics.” Nathaniel countered. “Besides,” he glared at the elf. “Zevran stole something from me.”

Zevran grinned cheekily and fished a small item from his belt. “And here you are my friend, too bad the way out is now blocked or else you could run away and leave us to deal with this pesky mess.”

“Hawke,” Aveline drew her attention away from the bickering newcomers. “We’re all that’s left.” The redhead said quietly. “Meredith will not wait long before sending another wave to attack.”

Blowing a strand of black hair out of her eyes, Xandria huffed. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and she’ll run out Templars,”

“Lethallan.” Merrill’s timid call echoed across the hall, still perched in the rafters, watching out the window. “They’re in a circle behind the Knight-Commander; do you think that they are going to sing? Sometimes the Keepers would do that at gatherings; it’s said to strengthen magic. But I don’t see why Templars would be doing it.” The elf rambled nervously.

“Daisy be careful.” Varric cautioned.

“This isn’t all that different than climbing trees, Varric.” Merrill dismissed, shifting, unknowingly sending a rain of dust down. “Although there aren’t any leaves and the air is mustier,” she paused. “Same amount of bugs though.”

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Anders asked what they all were wondering. “What are they waiting for?”

“Meredith is talking to someone.” Merrill chimed in.

Hawke bit her lip, trying to form a plan. “She’s not going to let us walk out of here.”

“I can’t see who it is.” The Dalish elf continued to inform.

Aveline nodded. “We gave up that choice the moment we opposed her. Just walking out of here is impossible,”

“What chance,” Zevran said brightly. “Impossible odds are our specialty.”

“Oh!” Merrill exclaimed. “Oh dear,”

“What is it Daisy?”

“She’s talking with Fenris.”

The words caused Xandria to flinch, her stomach giving a painful twist. Zevran’s brow furrowed and he looked at her. “Your delectable white-haired warrior has—” He stopped short at the expression on her face. “My condolences.”

Hawke’s grip on her staff tightened. “It doesn’t matter.” The words were so obviously a lie Xandria nearly cringed. “We don’t have much choice but to leave. I don’t think bottlenecking them here will work anymore. Odds are at least one of the Templars returned to inform on how the battle has been going.”

“I think I see Sebastian.” Merrill declared.

Aveline frowned, the nervousness barely hidden in her eyes. “Are we certain we should go out there? We don’t know how many Templars she has.”

“I thought Sebastian had left. Do you think he’s come back to help us?” Merrill’s innocent question barely registered with any of them.

“Waiting in here isn’t going to help us.” Hawke said scanning the room and how littered it had become with the dead. “She’ll have had time to set up defenses. Archers, maybe even a few traps, it’s not ideal.”

“Lethallan,” Merrill seemed hesitant. “I do not believe he is here to help.”

“You’re putting entirely too much credence on her ability to strategize.” Anders objected to Hawke’s concerns. “Meredith is hardly operating with a full deck here.”

Suddenly from above there was the sound of breaking glass. Xandria jerked, looking up as she reached for her staff, confused as to what could possibly have broken the window and wondering for one brief moment how the hell Templars had learned to fly.

Merrill let out a small noise, making Hawke speculate that the Dalish elf had somehow shattered the glass herself. Then everything seemed to slow as they watched the body of their friend fall from the rafters. A cry of panic erupted from many of them as both Xandria and Anders threw their hands forward, desperately trying to capture the elf in a shield that might soften the blow but they hadn’t reacted in time.

The sound Merrill made when hitting the stone would haunt her forever.

“DAISY!” Varric cried out.

Racing forward, Hawke skidded to her knees beside the elf, summoning what little healing magic she knew. Anders was close beside her. The blue light of healing magic surrounded her hands and she tried to find the most severe wound to heal like she had been taught, to somehow make the magic seek the injuries it could mend but the glow didn’t move from her palms.

Shaking her head, she tried again, seeking, searching for what had to be there. Tears were starting to burn in her brown eyes. Biting down on her lip, Xandria tried to push more magic through, maybe she just wasn’t giving it enough power. Her arms were starting to shake, the strain against her mana manifesting physically.

“Hawke,” Two hands covered hers, effectively stopping the blue glow. “She’s gone.” Anders whispered.

“NO!” The dwarf’s cry of denial ripped through the group like a wild fire through desert brush. “No! You can heal it, Blondie. You’ve healed worse than that!” Varric was uncharacteristically panicked, begging the blonde mage to do something as though pure will could make it so. “Heal her!”

“I can’t.” Anders said solemnly, his eyes never leaving Hawke.

She was aware that her hands were shaking in Anders’ grasp, everything in her going cold as she fought with the same denial that was sweeping Varric. Finally Xandria nodded, bowing her head, her black hair falling over her shoulders with the movement, accepting the heartbreaking reality.

Merrill was gone.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Hawke closed the elf’s lifeless eyes. “I’m so sorry, Merrill.” Her throat felt raw. “Creators be with you, Lethallan, and watch your path into the next life.” She wasn’t certain it was the proper last rite for a Dalish elf but she was positive, if Merrill was alive, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Readying to stand, Xandria barely managed to shift to a kneeling position when something caught her attention and horror began to replace her sorrow. She wrapped her hand around the arrow protruding from Merrill’s chest and pulled it from the corpse, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

The arrow was made of teak and tipped with a gold and red fletching; expensive and custom made.

She knew that arrow.

“Hawke?” Aveline said her name softly.

Looking up with blazing eyes, Xandria’s knuckles turned white with the grip on the arrow. Her attention shifted to Varric, who seemed to be as determined as she not to let feelings get in the way of surviving. Of all of them he had been the closest to Merrill, especially after Isabela had left. The dwarf had always protected Merrill, spending a ridiculous amount of coin to keep the naïve woman safe. Just as Varric knew Xandria’s secret, she knew his.

Walking over to him, she dropped the arrow in front of Varric. He jerked, barely catching it out of the air without dropping Bianca. “Kill him for me, Varric.” Xandria’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard. “Kill him for Merrill.”

Understanding flashed across Varric’s face when he saw what she did.

The arrow used to kill their friend was part of a set that Hawke had given Sebastian.

Tears burning in his eyes, he nodded, holding the arrow hard enough it snapped in his hand. “Gladly, Hawke.” He said gruffly. “Gladly.”

Turning, she walked toward the door. “Come,” Hawke ordered. “Let us end this.”

 


	3. Embrace Destiny

 

“ _And there are people who embrace destiny, and do not show their fear,”_

 

* * *

 

“And here we are Champion, at long last.”

The Knight-Commander’s greeting as Xandria’s haggard group appeared at the top of the stair sent a shiver down the mage’s spine. It was obvious to Hawke and her friends that Meredith was enjoying the idea of killing her.

As they came to a halt, staring down into the courtyard that was filled with Templars, Xandria unintentionally sought out the white-haired elf, scanning him for injuries before remembering they were on opposite sides.

“You were never part of this Circle, and I tolerated that.” Meredith sneered, saying the word like she had been graceful in her acceptance of an apostate. Reflexively Xandria tightened her grip on her staff. “You defend blood mages, Champion. And that is something I cannot allow.”

“It doesn’t have to end like this.” Hawke tried. “Please, stop this while we still have a chance to save lives.”

Meredith scoffed but it was Fenris who spoke next. “Backed into a corner mages show their true colors; Orsino proved that. Why are you still defending them? This is an old story that always ends the same way.”

“They’re not your enemies, Fenris.” She said softly walking down the stairs. “And neither am I.”

Something flickered across his face.

“Don’t do this.” It was unclear if she was addressing Meredith or Fenris; maybe she was talking to both, she didn’t know.

“The wolf has made up his mind about us.” Anders snipped, half stomping to stand beside her. “Why waste your breath Hawke? It’s obvious he cares nothing for you.”

The words were like knives in her heart and she looked at Anders, wishing he had the good sense to shut up.

Fenris bristled, instantly on the defensive. “You’ve never been to the Imperium.” He growled. “There, the mages spit on us. They keep people like me as pets.” The elf snarled, taking a step forward intimidatingly. “You think I won’t fight to stop that from happening here?”

“It’s _not_ happening here.” She interjected before Anders could retort. “None of us want anything more than to survive. Please, listen to me.”

The tension in Fenris’ shoulders started to sag. Hope soared in Xandria, if she could only convince him to leave maybe she could get through this.

Meredith balked. “See how she lies to you, even now. Mages are like vermin.” The blonde fed hate into her words, trying to stir the elf’s aggression again. “She is like the others, elf. Do not give her the chance to betray you.”

Xandria swallowed hard, meeting his sharp green eyes. Her world stilled for a moment, mind flashing to the night they shared. For the millionth time that night, her heart felt like it shattered, each time the pieces smaller than the last. “Please don’t make me fight you.” The plea fell from her lips before she could stop it.

Fenris took a step back as though she had physically struck him.

Sebastian pushed through the Templars, brandishing his bow. “Save you words, Hawke.” He snapped with his thick brogue. “You harbor a murderer. You have chosen to defend him and the rest of the foul mages.”

“Turning him into a martyr would only rally people around him.” Hawke shot. “You have turned into murderers yourselves, slaughtering mages who took no part in Anders’ crime.”

“You made your choice, Hawke.” Sebastian said firmly. Suddenly the Starkhaven prince brought up his bow, aiming at her. The sound of a clink fired before anyone could react, a bolt embedding itself in Sebastian’s forehead.

“That was for Daisy, Choir Boy.” Varric spat.

For a moment all was still and then the world around them erupted in to chaos. A blue-violet shield sprung to life around Hawke as a volley of arrows rained down from the side. Gratefully smiling at Varric who had just saved her life from Sebastian, Xandria turned to Anders. With a sharp nod, the blonde dropped the shield.

Instantly she flung her hand out, sending arching bolts of lightning toward the archers, watching as they hit their target, dropping three men at once. Aveline appeared at her side with a grunting war-cry, slamming her shield into a charging Templar.

Sweeping her staff out, Xandria sent the Templars racing up the stairs flying backwards with a mind-blast. Together she and Aveline rushed forward, tackling the line of Templars. A half circle of ice spikes pushed up around her, catching three of the running men in the gut, piercing through the leather and metal.

A cloud of smoke burst to her left and she could hear Zevran cackling, his daggers dancing. “I am ridiculously awesome.” The rogue cheered himself, four Templars falling as the wind blew the darkly colored smoke away.

Xandria ducked out of the way of a Templar’s blade, retaliating with a fist of fire. She found herself freezing when she heard a deep voice that haunted her dreams curse in Arcanum. Looking frantically around the field she spotted Fenris off to the side battling Aveline.

Pain ripped along her arm causing her to stumble back, gasping. Glaring at the Templar who managed to catch her, Hawke summoned a dagger of ice and dug it into the man’s neck. The wound on her arm began to mend as her mind raced, her magic automatically healing when it could. She had to get Fenris out the fight. The idea of him dying was more than she could handle.

A plan forming, she fought her way toward Anders. “Anders!” she shouted, kicking a Templar back. Xandria twisted her staff around and cut through the leather jerkin that the Templar wore. “ANDERS!”

The blonde glanced at her, fire on his fingertips dying as the charred Templar he had been fighting collapsed.

“Please.” Her eyes flickered to Fenris. “Help me.”

The mage frowned, objection in his eyes but he gave a curt nod. The two of them wove through the battle, casting in tandem with an ease they had picked up over the years. As they grew close to Aveline and Fenris, they heard the redhead trying to reason with the elf.

“Don’t do this, Fenris.” Aveline blocked the attack and shoved the elf back. “None of us want to fight you.”

“You have chosen your side, Aveline. You and Hawke are protecting blood mages.” He snarled back at her, his tattoos flaring into life.

Aveline avoided what would have been a crushing blow had it landed. “We are protecting her, you fool!”

Something flickered across Fenris’ face before the mask of hatred twisted there again. He lunged forward, barely missing impaling the Guard-Captain. Just as he gained his balance a soft yellow light enveloped him, leaving him frozen in place, eyes darting around wildly.

Xandria looked to Aveline. The woman gave a sharp nod and rushed to rejoin the fight, bashing into a Templar and knocking the man to the ground. Circling so she would face Fenris, she tried not to grimace at the rage that burned in his green eyes.

With a nod to Anders the two of them began to cast. Xandria tried to ignore the panic that entered the eyes that she had loved so much. Around the elf glowing runes sprung to life, laying on top each other until they made a solid ring, insuring that it would be a while before Fenris would be able to join the battle again.

“BEHIND YOU HAWKE!” Nathaniel’s voice rang from the battle.

Dodging just as a Templar tried to impale her, she smashed her staff into the man’s face, breaking his nose and temporarily blinding him. Two arrows hit the man, one in his head, the other his neck.

Varric cackled. “That one was mine, Howe, don’t even think about claiming it!”

“As you say, dwarf.”

Xandria kicked the dead body aside and rejoined Anders in adding another circle of paralytic runes, both protecting the elf and protecting them from the elf. Anders fumbled at his pouch and downed a mana potion, giving her a look before turning back to the battle. Swallowing hard she stepped back, flinching at the hate in Fenris’ eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She took another step back.

Spinning around, Hawke funneled her raw emotions into her magic, causing the lightning that shot from her staff to splinter and strike five Templars, reducing two to their knees, one dead, and the last fell forward, directly onto Zevran’s blade.

The battle stretched for what seemed like forever. For every Templar her group felled, two more seemed to race forward and take their place. How in Thedas did there get to be so many Templars in Kirkwall? Had Meredith been keeping a secret reserve, Hawke wondered, icing the ground so that the Templars advancing fell.

She stabbed the fallen fighters with the sword-tip of her staff, backing away toward the stairs. Xandria was running out of mana potions and had used her last health potion ages ago. Scanning the courtyard her stomach dropped. Her allies were slowing, their movements choppier than she knew they could be; the strain of the night wearing on them.

“This has to end!” Xandria shouted, sweeping her staff out and sending a force blast in the middle of the field. Templars flew back, unable to keep their balance in their bulky armor. “Think of your men!”

“You have chosen your side, Champion!” Meredith screamed at her.

Several of the Templars were dragging their friends back, trying to stem the injuries, suddenly realizing how much lack of magical healing was leaving them at a disadvantage. Six people had managed to slaughter thirty of them.

The battle lines were being drawn once again.

Aveline was leaning heavily on Anders, who was sending waves of blue light over the warrior, trying to heal her. Varric had a rather large gash across his forehead, spilling blood down his face and onto his chest. Nathaniel looked tired but determined and relatively uninjured. Zevran, that stupid wonderful elf, had a cheeky grin on his face, acting as though the cut across his cheek that would likely scar and his broken hand was nothing. Hawke swallowed hard, looking toward Fenris, who was glowering at her group, still surrounded by the traps she and Anders had placed in an attempt to keep him from the fight.

“Please, Meredith.” Xandria tried. “There must be a way to end this peacefully; while there are still lives to be saved!”

“You will not sway me, mage!” Meredith announced, stomping forward. “We must stay true to our path!” She pointed at Hawke, sweeping her augmented greatsword out in the raven-haired woman’s direction. “Bring her to me now!”

The Templars looked at each other and then charged, a war cry melding from all of them. Sweeping her staff out, Xandria scraped the floor, sending a volley of ice-spikes at the Templars, hoping to slow them. Sharing a look with her friends, they leapt into battle once again, fighting for their lives against a merciless foe.

It became a swirl of blood and blades. Templar after Templar fell. For once, Xandria was grateful for the extra power that damned spirit brought Anders as he managed to deliver wave after wave of heals.

Crying out when a sword grazed her arm, Hawke ducked the following lunge. Fire sprung to life on her hand and she threw a ball of twisting flames at the Templar, taking no satisfaction when he bellowed in pain. Moving back, she watched the man turn, rage and agony fueling his movements. Her staff funneled the blast of cold, slowing his step. Swinging her fist up she brought a stone to smash into him.

Unbelievably he charged, bleeding and half dead. Stumbling back she threw her hand out, barely avoiding his sword and sent him flying away from her with a focused mind-blast. She suddenly crashed into someone behind her.

Barely keeping her balance Xandria spun around, lightning crackling on her fingertips, ready to arc into the nearest adversary. Everything in her froze when she realized who the nearest enemy was. The shock-white hair was illuminated by the glowing lyrium in his veins as he turned to face her, finally free of his magical prison.

Fenris was fluidly twisting around, anxious for a fight to channel his fury at being caged to the nearest opponent. She felt her world slow as his greatsword swung at her, unable to react even to bring up a shield; their eyes met, green and brown, burning in the night.

Suddenly Fenris pulled the blow, causing it to strike the stone near her feet. The rage rippled through him, every breath he took was rigid but all they could do was stare at each other, tension mounting.

It would have been easy to send a volley of magic at him, end the second biggest threat on the battlefield and continue in her fight for survival. It should have been easy. Fenris had all but declared his hate for her. Bedding her, leaving her, frequently asserting that no good could ever come from magic despite the fact she herself was a mage, Xandria should feel nothing for the elf; instead she felt everything for him.

She loved him.

Maker help her, despite his hate, despite his temper, despite everything he had done, she loved him.

Her grip grew slack on her staff as she finally acknowledged what she had known all along: she couldn’t do it. Even now on opposite sides of a battle that was to determine not only her right but the right of every mage in Thedas to live; she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill the only man she had ever loved.

Xandria trembled, closing her eyes. She had known it would come to this the moment he sided with Meredith; hell if she was being honest; she had suspected it would come to this the moment she found out how much he loathed magic. No matter what she did for him, no matter how she helped him or how much she loved him it could never change the fact she was a mage. And he hated mages.

A searing hot pain erupted in her abdomen causing her to gasp, unable to catch her breath. Looking down she saw a greatsword impaling her, slicing through her armor as though it hadn’t existed. Things went out of focus for a moment; the excruciating pain of the sword slowly being pulled out nearly overwhelming her. Blood began pouring out of the wound, staining her shirt and dripping over her leather vest.

Xandria shook as she flexed her hand, trying to summon the same burst of healing magic she had used when fighting the Arishok when her world exploded into further agony.

A Silence washed over her, ripping her magic away.

She fell to her knees, her staff clattering to the stone floor. Hawke wrapped her arm around the wound that had begun to bleed more freely now that her magic was unable to instinctively halt the flow.

The pain was maddening and all she could do was reach for her weapon, trying desperately to hold onto her sanity. A foot smashed down on her hand before she could reach the staff, snapping her fingers, leaving her eyes watering with the new pain.

“And so ends Kirkwall’s Champion.” Meredith sneered swiftly kicking Xandria in the gut, causing her to curl into a ball in a feeble attempt to manage the pain.

“HAWKE!” Aveline’s shout sounded miles away.

Wincing, Hawke pulled herself up, trying to move, holding her wound as blood spilled through her fingers. She had to get up, she had to keep fighting.

Meredith stomped her foot onto Hawke’s back, forcing the mage to cry out in agony, collapsing to the ground again. The sound of her cry carried above the fighting causing it to die down.

Everyone had frozen, staring at the two women in horror and disbelief. Her friends looked terrified at the sight and the Templars were no better, as though neither group could believe what they were seeing.

Sadistically Meredith wound a chunk of Hawke’s waist-length raven-black hair around her hand, wrenching Xandria’s head up. “Have you nothing to say?” Meredith mocked, sliding her glowing claymore under Xandria’s chin, threatening to end it. “No more glib remarks or clever lies?”

From across the courtyard Anders lurched forward, snapping out of his shock and starting toward the women. He attempted to send a healing spell to Hawke but was almost immediately struck from behind by a Templar, forcing the mage to the ground.

“Maker’s breath, the sword!” Aveline gasped only to be violently hit across the face, the redhead toppling over with the force of the blow.

“Andraste’s dimpled buttcheeks!” Varric exclaimed. “That’s the fucking idol!” The dwarf started to move forward but immediately stopped when the Templars attempted to restrain him. Frantically Varric looked at the others before his attention fell on the only person in the entire place that was close enough to do anything. “Elf, the idol!”

Fenris twitched, startled at the shout. Even from the distance the panic and indecision was written on his angular face.

“She’s mad!” Varric struggled against the Templars who were removing Bianca from him. “She’s got that damned idol!”

Meredith smirked. “Do you recognize this, Champion?” the blonde forced Xandria to look at the glowing red blade. “Forged from pure lyrium, the dwarf charged a great deal for this prize.”

Xandria coughed, blood staining her chin. “Some prize; it drives people crazy.”

Scowling, Meredith shoved the mage to the ground, sheathing the shining red blade. Weakly Hawke attempted to crawl away. Sadistically the Knight-Commander stepped on her back, forcing a whimper of pain to escape the injured mage.

Meredith’s attention suddenly snapped to Fenris. “I must thank you, elf.”

Xandria sluggishly looked at him, wondering for one moment if it had been a prefabricated plan for him to stall her long enough for Meredith to attack.

“Your distraction was quite advantageous.” The blonde jeered, oblivious to the way Fenris recoiled at the statement.

Reaching down, Meredith grabbed Hawke by the arm, hauling the willowy mage to her feet with ease. Xandria moaned feeling spots invade her vision, the jostling pain nearly causing her to black out. One by one Hawke’s companions were disarmed, forced to the ground in a horrific line up without a fight, unable to do much more than watch as Meredith dragged Hawke through the crowd and up the stairs.

Half throwing her forward, Meredith stood on the small jutting platform as though to put her conquest on display. It was all Xandria could do to stay conscious. Falling to her knees when the woman’s grip on her vanished, she feebly tried to summon healing magic, if she could only halt the bleeding maybe she could—

“You see your mighty Champion!” Meredith kicked Hawke in the back, causing the mage to collapse, her arms trembling as they supported her, blood already beginning to spot and stain the stone beneath her. “You see the foul mage that she is! Every mage turns to blood magic, every mage accepts a demon’s deal!” she shouted at her Templars.

Slowly, Xandria forced herself to her feet. “Not this one.” Her words were quiet as she stood, shaking.

Meredith backhanded her across the face causing the raven-haired woman to fall, narrowly missing the iron spiked railing around the platform. “Fereldan upstart bitch!” she cursed kicking Xandria again. “I should have dealt with you long ago!”

“Fenris!” Varric squirmed under the blade near his throat.

Fenris barely tore his eyes away from the sight.

“Help her!” the dwarf was fumbling with the ropes that bound his hands. “Maker damn it, Fenris! She’s going to die!”

Fenris recoiled looking sharply back at up at the two women. Somehow despite the battle, despite Meredith’s conviction he hadn’t thought this would end in Hawke’s death. He hadn’t thought that she would die—be captured, imprisoned, forced to understand the evil she was trying to protect; but die? Fenris felt his heart drop. Meredith pulled Hawke up by the hair again.

Bile rose in the back of his throat as he finally comprehended what he was seeing. Xandria Hawke, the woman who had fought through hell and back again to keep him free, was covered in blood. The lower half of her soft leather vest was drenched in the scarlet liquid. She had a gash across her forehead where Meredith’s boot had connected with her face. Her lip was split open on the side, swelling.

The Knight-Commander threw the mage forward, scoffing at something the raven-haired woman had said. Fenris twitched when Hawke crashed to the ground. Unbelievably, she tried to get up again, her entire body quivering with the exertion. Meredith laughed at the effort, kicking Xandria in the gut with her steel-plated boot.

A horrific thought flashed through Fenris’ mind, immediately shifting the picture he was seeing to that of one he had witnessed time and time again between Master and slave. Only here the roles were reversed, it was not a mage towering above gaining sick pleasure from making someone hurt.

Without warning, Meredith shoved Hawke’s prone form, causing the mage to tumble down the stone stairs. Each step she hit made a sickening noise until she stopped immobile at the bottom. Several of the people forced into the audience line up, people who he had known for nearly a decade, people who had fought beside Hawke, protected her, tried to move forward, to stop the madness but were prevented by their Templar guard.

“Mages are all the same, _animals_.” Meredith started down the stairs toward Hawke’s bleeding body.

Fenris felt something in his gut twist when he saw Hawke move, slowly shifting to her knees. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, shielding the agony on her face but doing nothing to stop the way her weak voice carried.

“We are _not_ animals.”

She looked up at Meredith with the same determination Fenris remember her showing in the fight against Danarius.

“I will _never_ be what you claim.”

Danarius who had offered her power, money, everything to give him up.

“There are mages in this world better than you believe.” Xandria stood on two trembling legs, her face pale beneath the red but her eyes shining.

Only she hadn’t given him up, she hadn’t even considered it.

“And we have as much right to live as you.”

Hawke had always defended him, always protected him.

“You will never make me what you are; a monster no better than a demon.” She held her head high. “And no matter what you do, I will _never_ let you make me one.”

Meredith came to a stop in front of her. “You are filth, mage.” She backhanded Hawke across the face, sending the mage collapsing to the ground, blood pooling underneath her. Meredith spit on her. “You have always _been_ filth.”

Fenris flinched, the words wrenching forth another painful memory from his past.

“You always will _be_ filth.”

His heart pounded in his chest. Hawke had never acted like a Magister, she never abused anyone, never took pleasure in someone’s pain.

“Mages have no place in this world.” Meredith raised her sword.

In a blur of blue he was across courtyard. With inhuman strength Fenris stopped the sword, grabbing the woman by the wrists and shoving her away from his Hawke. His Hawke? When had he decided Hawke was his?

“I should have known.” Meredith jeered a dangerous glint of red seeping into her sharp blue eyes. “The blood mage’s hold on you is far too strong.”

Fenris lunged at her, startling the woman enough that she staggered back. His hand sank into her chest through her armor. He could feel the hooks of the maddening red lyrium burn his hand, fighting to keep its demonic hold on the blonde. The elf clenched his hand around Meredith’s heart, deaf to her screams of agony.

“She is not a blood mage.” Fenris growled and ripped the throbbing muscle from its place. He took a step back, waiting for Meredith to fall, only it didn’t happen.

The cries morphed into laughter as red cracks shot up her arm, burning in her eyes. “You think it that simple to kill me!” Meredith’s voice warped, echoing like she was possessed.

Fenris swept his greatsword off his back milliseconds before hers would have hit him. The clang of the two blades caused red sparks to fly from her sword. He forced her up the stairs, trying to back the creature that was functioning without a heart away.

“Damn it, Cullen! You have to stop her! She’s not human anymore!” Anders shouted. “How many people do you know who can exist without a heart!”

Suddenly Fenris felt a wave of something pass him, crashing over the thing that used to be the Knight-Commander. The monster let out a scream, shaking and burning bright. Looking sharply behind him he watched Cullen direct the Templars to cast again. Simultaneously all of the Templars threw their hands out, sending a massive burst of Silence at the demon.

If anything that action caused the screams to double. A blinding red-orange light cracked through Meredith’s skin and the creature was reduced its knees. Walking back, shielding his face from the light, Fenris gripped his sword, wondering what would happen. A burst of magic shoved out, knocking all of them off their feet.

Fenris rolled down the remaining stairs, coming to a stop near Hawke. He glanced back at Meredith and then reacted. The elf threw himself over Xandria’s battered body seconds before an explosion rocked the courtyard. Debris rained down, dust and dirt clouding around them, sticking to the blood and muck.

He reached for his sword, looking toward Meredith only to freeze. In the center of a blast-radius was a glowing statue that looked as though it were made of molten rock. For several long moments Fenris stared at it, worried that the impossible would happen again and the statue would move.

“Fenr’s,” his name was slurred, jerking his attention to the body beneath him.

Instantly he slid off of Hawke, horrified at how much blood covered the woman, never mind the puddle that was still growing larger around her. “MAGE!” he shouted, yanking off his gauntlets. “ANDERS!” Fenris pressed his hands on the wound on her stomach, grimacing at the blood that squished between his fingers.

“Let me go!” Anders’ voice cut through the ringing in Fenris’ ears. A moment later the blonde appeared. “Hawke?” he dropped to his knees on the other side of their fallen leader, ripping the leather vest open and pushing up her shift in order to see the wound better. “Hawke can you hear me?”

Foggy brown eyes tried to focus on him and a wry smile spread on her bloodied lips. “I told you.” The words were barely audible.

Anders’ hands glowed blue, hovering over her. “Told me what, sweetheart?”

“That he was good.” She whispered, her eyes closing.

The blonde twitched but didn’t respond. Panic suddenly flashed across his face. “Hawke?” Her breathing was slowing. “Hawke, keep your eyes open for me.” He abandoned his attempt to heal her stomach and cupped her head; the blue glow illuminated her battered bruised face. “Come on, sweetheart. Keep your eyes open.” Anders’ magic burned brighter for a moment. “Damn it Hawke, don’t do this!”

Slowly she blinked. “Fenr’s?”

Anders looked accusingly at the elf, clearly hating that the person she sought was not the one healing her.

Fenris shifted into her view. “I am here.”

Relief filled her face, her hand searching for him. He captured her hand, hating how slick her blood had made it. Fenris felt the lump in throat grow bigger when he noticed how cold her hand was.

“I thought he had gotten you.” She whispered. “Is he dead?”

Fenris blinked. “Who?”

“Danarius.”

Looking to Anders, his confusion evident, Fenris realized that Hawke was still waiting for an answer. “He’s dead.” Fenris’ response felt hollow. She lay dying and all she cared about was Danarius?

Her eyes fluttered closed. “You’re safe then.”

“No! No, Hawke, don’t—” Anders exclaimed as she started to go limp again. “Does anyone have any potions?” Anders shouted over his shoulder. “Mana, elfroot, anything? Please!”

Aveline grimly shook her head and Varric followed suit. The blonde mage let out a few choice curse words when a murmur and a series of shuffling came from the remaining Templars. Cullen walked forward and knelt down, holding out three vials of red potion along with a single one of blue. Anders stared at the potions, stunned for a moment before giving a curt nod of thanks to the man.

“You _have_ to get her to drink it.” Anders ordered, motioning to the elf.

“It’s okay.” Xandria whispered. “I don’t feel any pain.”

Fear thrummed in Fenris when heard that. “Drink it, Hawke.” His words were sharper than he had intended.

Confusion was on her face at the order, as though she couldn’t understand why he could possibly want her to take a health potion. She tried to sit up but was unable to move. Gently Fenris lifted her head, attempting to help. Bile rose in his throat at the amount of blood that matted her black hair. Biting the cork, Fenris yanked it out with his teeth. He pressed the vial against her lips. Obediently she tried to sip it. Suddenly she began coughing, blood splattering from her.

Anders let out another string of curses. Sliding her into his arms, Fenris tried to calm her coughing fit, Anders automatically adjusting for the new position. As her hacking subsided, Fenris felt her grow heavier in his arms.

“Hawke,” Her name came out as a strangled plea. “Hawke.” Panic was now coursing through him. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t! Fenris’ lips brushed her ear. “Xia.”

Suddenly she stirred.

“Whatever you’re saying to her, elf, keep it up.” Anders growled, frantically trying to stem the blood that was still seeping from her wound.

Fenris inadvertently tightened his grip around her. “Xia,” he repeated. “Don’t leave me. I need you.” Any embarrassment at bearing his heart in company paled in comparison to his fear of her dying. “I’ve always needed you. I should have told you before, about how I felt.”

Tension abruptly shot through her broken frame. “No.” the word was almost moaned. “You can’t tell him, Varric, please.” Xandria said fervently. Her eyes were fluttering, trying to force themselves open but failing. “Swear to me.” Her head rolled slightly, as though searching for the dwarf. “Swear that you won’t tell him.”

Attention swung sharply to Varric, who was currently looking as though someone had just told him Bianca had been destroyed. Varric limped toward them, eyes glued to the woman he had followed for ten years. “I swear, Hawke, not a word will fall from these lips.”

“Swear on your chest hair.”

The absurdity of the exchange was not lost but no one seemed to care. Varric closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “I swear on my chest hair to never tell a soul nor imply it in any written format.” The oddly specific promise made Fenris positive that the dwarf was simply echoing some pact the two of them had made previously.

“Good.” Her breaths were becoming farther apart. “He can’t ever know.” Xandria’s head rested against his chest. “Fenris can’t ever know.”

Fenris stilled, never imaging this secret could be about him. His moss green eyes shot to Varric who refused to look at him. “Know what?”

“I love him.”

It took everything in him not to recoil. She loved him? After all this time; after three years she loved him? She had never brought up that night between the two of them again. He had assumed she dismissed it as nothing just as he desperately tried to.

For three years Fenris had tried to put her out of his mind, pretend she didn’t matter to him. He had focused on her faults, her constant need to find the compromise before the fight, her ability to provoke a reaction in him even when unintended, her magic. All this time he had focused on her magic, how _it_ had caused the problems. If only she hadn’t been a mage, if only she didn’t defend them.

Time and time again he spat in her face, acting as though she was at fault for being born with magic. Time and time again she patiently dealt with his anger. Time and time again he lumped her in with the same monsters he knew in Tevinter.

“No.” Anders frantic words drew him from his thoughts. “Hawke! Xandria hang on. Don’t let go, don’t give up.” Fenris held her tighter as though his arms wrapping around her physical body could somehow keep her alive. “I’m losing her!”

A strangled cry was bubbling in Fenris’ throat. “Xia,” he shifted so he could look at her. He brushed strands of her raven black hair off her bloodstained face. “Xia, please.”

“No, no, no, no!” Blue cracks appeared in Anders’ skin and a shockwave of healing magic burst through his palms. “Stay with me Hawke!”

Fenris’ grip on her tightened; he couldn’t lose her, not now, not after what he just learned. “Xia, please.” He whispered. “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

She drew a haltering breath, her eyes opening. Xandria stared at Fenris, a small smile spreading on her lips.

Hope soared in him.

The mage had done it!

“I am yours.” Fenris whispered, pressing his lips to her, not caring who saw.

The kiss was messy and weak but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but her. She was his, now, forever, she was his.

His heart pounded in his chest when he realized she had gone limp in his arms. Pulling away, Fenris looked at her. The light had drained from her brown eyes as they stared unblinkingly at nothing. She had gone still.

Looking at Anders, unable to comprehend why she had stopped moving, Fenris watched the mage bury his face in his hands; silent sobs wracking his body. Aveline had bowed her head, sorrow written on her strong features. A tear was actually falling down Varric’s face. It was when he looked at Cullen that the realization began to dawn on him. The Templar was saying words softly under his breath, giving a last right.

Everything crashed down around Fenris as in that moment he understood.

Xandria Hawke was dead.

 


End file.
